


the ten duel commandments

by Splat_Dragon



Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Shot", Arthur Whump, Duelling, Inspired by Hamilton, Inspired by Music, Murder, Non-Canon Canon Character Death, Sad Ending, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, alt #14, alt. 14, alt.14, inspired by song lyrics, no happy ending, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: Whumptober 2020, alt. #14: ShotHosea stepped forward, scowling as he looked at Arthur and the man - he’d never even gotten his name - staring each other down. Dutch’s gun belt was too big on the boy, even fastened as tight as it’d go, and Arthur was praying it wouldn’t fall.“I’ll count to ten,” the man was clearly no stranger to duels, considering how quick he’d been to challenge a boy to one, but Arthur was new to them and it was procedure to announce how they’d work, “one pace away for each count. On ten, you fire. Understood?”
Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945801
Kudos: 27
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	the ten duel commandments

###  _the ten duel commandments_  
~Ten Dual Commandments, Anthony Ramos, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Jon Rua, Leslie Odom, Jr.

Hosea had tried to talk the man down.

And then, when that hadn’t worked, he’d tried to talk Dutch down.

That, of course, hadn’t worked either.

_“The boy’s eighteen, Hosea, and he hasn’t seen a duel!”_

Hosea had made the valid point that he’d seen much more than that - wagon hold-ups, train robberies even, but Dutch had been adamant that Arthur needed to see a duel. 

“He’ll be fine, Hosea! You’ve seen him shoot, that man won’t have a chance.” Dutch had patted him on the shoulder as though he was some worried old maiden, fussing over nothing. “Come on, he turns eighteen today. Let the boy live a little!”

“I wouldn’t call killing a man in cold blood living a little, Dutch.” Hosea’s voice had dripped with disdain.

Dutch gave him that spread-armed ‘I’ve done nothing wrong in my life’ gesture, “It’s not in cold blood, old girl, he’s the one who challenged our boy to a duel. _And_ over nothing. So really, it’s his fault.”

Hosea had looked over at Arthur, who’d looked two seconds from diving beneath a table to avoid being drawn into the argument, and finally acquiesced. “Alright, alright. Just… Arthur. Be careful.”

  
  


The duel was over the dumbest thing, in Hosea’s mind.

Arthur would agree, too.

They’d taken him to a saloon to celebrate his eighteenth birthday - or, at least, what they’d determined to be his eighteenth birthday. When they’d asked when his birthday was, not long after taking him in, he’d said “I dunno, March?” because his family hadn’t celebrated it much, had more important things to do, so they’d picked March twenty-fourth, having taken him in on the twenty-fourth of another month, to be his birthday. He’d been picking up a beer to take back to their table - hadn’t even had a single drink yet - when the man had walked plum into him, started yelling as though it were _Arthur’s_ fault then, when Arthur wouldn’t apologize (he _had,_ actually, but the man had been hollering too loud to hear it and then, by the time the man had demanded an apology, Arthur had been too incensed to give him another), challenged him to a duel.

Arthur, caught flat footed, had looked to Dutch, who’d nodded an enthusiastic _‘yes!’_ so Arthur had accepted the duel.

  
  


Hosea had been _furious,_ but Arthur was a grown man and had insisted he wanted to do it - though Hosea knew he was just doing it to make them proud, was desperate for their approval - and the man wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, had laughed in his face when Hosea had tried to step in, tried to find a compromise.

So they walked out onto the patio of the saloon, the man standing in the middle of the dirt path, waiting for them with his hand on the grip of his gun, other patrons walking out to watch as though this were some show, not someone about to be gunned down into the dirt.

While Hosea often had to force himself not to laugh at Dutch’s rants about _civilization,_ he’d fully agree with him here, hearing the man muttering about their cruelty, their callousness, their… something or other, he couldn’t quite tell.

  
  


Arthur was staring, wide-eyed, at the man.

He’d killed before, of course. Lawmen and O’Driscolls, people that were trying to kill him. But only ever in the heat of a battle, never having to stay back and see the corpse lie where it fell.

But Dutch had reassured him that he would win - and he was a crack-shot, never missed no matter what, even if he was firing without looking over his shoulder as he rode at a gallop, so why should he doubt Dutch? Hosea seemed worried, sure, but Hosea _always_ worried. That was his job, his fussing annoyed Dutch into not doing things that were too dangerous.

But he was quick with his gun, and never missed. So he’d have no choice but to watch the man collapse to the ground, watch his blood pool in the sand.

He shuddered, startling when Dutch clapped his hand on his shoulder, before pressing one of his beloved revolvers in his hand, “Here son, use one of mine,” already beaming at him as though he’d won the duel and a hundred more.

and Arthur felt ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  
  


Hosea stepped forward, scowling as he looked at Arthur and the man - he’d never even gotten his name - staring each other down. Dutch’s gun belt was too big on the boy, even fastened as tight as it’d go, and Arthur was praying it wouldn’t fall.

“I’ll count to ten,” the man was clearly no stranger to duels, considering how quick he’d been to challenge a boy to one, but Arthur was new to them and it _was_ procedure to announce how they’d work, “one pace away for each count. On ten, you fire. Understood?”

Arthur took a shuddering breath, nodded a second after the man.

“One,” 

they turned their backs to each other,

“two,”

a step,

“three,”

a step,

“four,”

a step,

“five,”

a step,

“six,”

a step,

“seven,”

Arthur took a step.

A gunshot cracked through the air.

Dutch drew, the man fell.

Hosea rushed to Arthur’s side.

The boy was dead before he hit the ground.


End file.
